


Something Good Out of It

by triste



Series: Academia AU - EnAli [1]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2643503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alibaba’s life is hard. It’s all Kouen’s fault, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Good Out of It

Title: Something Good Out of It  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Magi  
Pairing: Kouen/Alibaba  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

It’s late when Alibaba gets back, and he doesn’t even get the chance to open his front door thanks to the repeated thumping coming from the floor above accompanied by the roaring of his name. 

Wishing his professor would choose some other way of summoning him, preferably one that doesn’t involve disturbing all their neighbours, Alibaba reluctantly trudges upstairs. He knocks once upon reaching his destination, then again when he receives no answer before letting himself in with a customary “pardon my intrusion.”

There’s a whole dead forest inside Kouen’s apartment. Part of Alibaba mourns for the loss of all the trees that gave up their lives in aid of Kouen’s relentless pursuit of knowledge. Another part of him can’t help being slightly envious. There are books, books and more books, and then there’s the addition of the numerous files and loose papers lying around. It’s like Kouen has his own personal library, except that there’s no system or order to it. 

Sometimes Alibaba wishes he had a different person supervising his PhD studies, someone like Sinbad or better yet, the ultra organised, ultra efficient, always friendly and helpful Ja’far. Kouen doesn’t take well to being asked for advice or assistance. Then again, he doesn’t seem to take well to the rest of the human race in general. He has no patience for anyone or anything that doesn’t interest him. If it’s not relevant to his research, then it might as well not exist.

Finally Kouen looks up from his desk to acknowledge Alibaba’s presence and, as usual, he looks irritated. Alibaba would comment on it but he knows better by now.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kouen demands. “I’ve been calling you for the last fifteen minutes. Are you going deaf?” 

“I wasn’t even home,” Alibaba protests, finding himself being reminded yet again how little common sense Kouen possesses, not to mention how supremely lazy he is. “Honestly, how much effort does it take to pick up the phone or come downstairs and speak to me in person?”

It’s kind of annoying how Kouen scowls at him like he’s the one who’s making his life unreasonably difficult, but Alibaba returns to the subject.

“Well? What do you need this time?”

Kouen’s reply is characteristically short and to the point. “There’s something wrong with my computer. Hurry up and fix it.”

Alibaba looks to his right and sees the words ‘installing update 3 of 72’ on the screen. 

He’s probably going to be here for a while.

There’s no point in trying to explain to Kouen what the computer is actually doing. He doesn’t get along with technology. He also doesn’t really understand the concept of online journals or how to access them. He threw his previous laptop through the window just because he got locked out of his account.

Sighing, Alibaba decides to make himself useful while he waits by picking up the empty cup ramen containers. Besides, it’s not as if Kouen is going to bother doing it.

“When was the last time you ate a proper meal?” he asks.

It takes Kouen a few seconds to respond. “Monday.” He pauses again, and then shrugs dismissively. “Probably chicken curry.”

“It *was* chicken curry,” Alibaba says, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “*I* made it for you.”

Kouen goes back to his work, disinterested, but Alibaba isn’t done with him yet.

“Why has everything expired?” he asks, upon further investigation in the kitchen. “Do you know you’ve missed garbage day? Why haven’t you bought any fresh food? Have you done your laundry yet? Have you even left the house at all this week?” 

Kouen just grunts. 

Alibaba’s left eyebrow twitches.

“I told you, your futon needs airing. You need to open the windows before this place starts growing mould. Better yet, you need to go outdoors, before *you* start growing mould.”

“Fuck the outdoors.”

It’s no good. The whole Ren family is full of shut-ins, and Kouen is the worst of them.

“I’m serious,” Alibaba insists, hating how much he’s starting to sound like his mother. “Stop being such a slob.”

Kouen doesn’t say anything. His expression does it for him, and right now it’s telling Alibaba ‘then stop being such a nag.’

Sometimes Alibaba wonders what kind of disciplinary action his university would take if he punched Kouen in the face, and it’s only with great effort that he restrains the urge to resort to violence. Besides, he’s broke and he needs the funding for his research.

It doesn’t stop him from verbally assaulting Kouen, though, as he waits for the computer to finish updating. Kouen ignores him, or at least tries to. He’s not concentrating as well as he should be, and Alibaba claims his grudging silence as a victory while he clears up Kouen’s mess.

Later, much later, when Alibaba can do something with the computer again, he turns to Kouen expectantly. “So, what’s the problem?”

“My emails,” Kouen says. “Sort them out for me.”

Alibaba rolls his eyes. He probably should have known. There’s nothing wrong with the computer at all, apart from not having been updated for the last however many months, no software errors, no virus warnings, just Kouen avoiding his administration duties.

“This is really unprofessional,” he complains. “And anyway, why can’t you do it?”

“Because you’re the only one who knows my password.”

It’s true. Even Kouen doesn’t know it, and it’s his email address. 

“We’re both going to be in trouble if the university finds out,” Alibaba mumbles. “Forget about unprofessionalism, it’s a huge security issue.”

“Like I give a damn,” Kouen tells him.

Alibaba wishes he would. That way he wouldn’t have to go through Kouen’s inbox on his behalf to delete all the unimportant messages requesting respondents for surveys and experiments, all the ones containing information for upcoming events, circle recruitment, anything for people with social lives (which Kouen most definitely does not have).

Even then, Alibaba only manages to narrow Kouen’s emails down to about thirty, and it still takes him over an hour to reply to them all. According to the online calendar, there’s a conference coming up soon. Kouen, unsurprisingly, has no recollection of it when Alibaba mentions this to him.

“I’ll make a note in your diary,” Alibaba says, shutting the computer down, “so don’t forget to take your suit to the dry cleaners next week.”

“Sure,” Kouen says, but he’s obviously not listening and it’s obviously Alibaba who’s going to have to do the job for him at some point.

“I’ll also get some groceries in the morning,” Alibaba continues, “but for tonight you’ll have to make do with leftovers from my place.”

“Sure.”

“And go take a bath while I heat them up.”

For once Kouen pays attention to what Alibaba is saying. “A bath?”

“Yes,” Alibaba repeats, “a bath. Then dinner.”

Kouen nods in agreement. “And then sex.”

Alibaba blushes, but he doesn’t argue. The fact that he’s sleeping with his supervisor is probably more unprofessional than anything else he’s done this evening, but if Kouen is going to treat him like his secretary-slash-home help-slash-wife, he might as well get something good out of it.


End file.
